


Reasons

by yeaka



Category: Masters of the Universe (1987)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Skeletor’s real thirsty.
Relationships: He-Man | Adam/Skeletor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fair warning, I’ve only seen the one He-Man movie.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Masters of the Universe or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Grayskull feels _right_ in his hands. He paces the grand hall at a measured, leisurely pace, enjoying every step, every click of his heel against the stone floor. He looks out across the lines of lackeys before him, trained soldiers in his ever-expanding army, and knows that _nothing_ can stop him this time. He’s so close to victory that he can taste the ash of it on his tongue. He trails to one towering window and peers out across the wide lands below, knowing that it’s all _his_.

His claws twist around the edge of the sill. He leans into the breeze, letting it tickle his drawn cheeks, letting it stir his hood across his forehead. He can smell the fire and blood in the air. He can see small pockets of the resistance, stray rebels trying to fend off his horde. When he closes his eyes, there’s only one rebel he sees behind them. 

He wonders where that one tall figure has gone off to—that big, hulking wretch of a hero, with his rippling muscles and his blond hair shining in the sun. Skeletor can perfectly picture those broad shoulders capped in just the faintest bit of armour, a strapping chest so slick with sweat that it shimmers in the light, even caked with grime and dirt from so many noble battles. Thin leather straps crisscross over the view, but Skeletor would remove them given the chance—snap the metal pendant right from He-Man’s breast and throw it to the floor, leaving him utterly bare. The shoulder pads would fall away with it, perhaps a brace still on one arm, but nothing else right down to the trim skirt that just barely hides He-Man’s no doubt impressive package from the world. 

Skeletor’s throat is pleasantly dry. He shivers, pulling back from the window, into his keep, his lair: the first fruit of all his labours. Grayskull is a beautiful prize, but it’s _nothing_ compared to its master—the man that Skeletor will soon have at his feet. Skeletor’s fingers itch to rake through He-Man’s matted hair and push him down, hold him there, sprawled out on bent knees and tense thighs. Skeletor’s always been fond of that particular aspect of He-Man’s garb—or rather, lack thereof. His boots barely rise to his knees, the rest of his muscular legs as exposed as the rest of him, right up the cleft of his crotch—so many rigid lines and supple curves are just _out_ on display. One lone strap often loops around one of his thick thighs, and Skeletor can’t imagine what that’s for if not just a dog’s collar—something for a master to grab hold of and pull him closer by. 

Skeletor _needs it_. _Badly_. Needs to capture He-Man more than anything, and in the face of that one goal, nothing else seems to matter. The castle is cavernously empty, the war’s victory hollow; he just needs his nemesis kneeling before him, chained to the floor, panting for breath and drenched in sweat and begging for mercy—

“My Lord?”

Skeletor turns so fast that the, “What?” has snapped out of him before he even sees who it is. Not that it matters. Evil-Lyn’s stern look doesn’t please him any more than one of his faceless soldiers would. 

“We believe we’ve located him,” she reports, and she doesn’t have to clarify who. “But... perhaps, if we were to kill him where he stands, instead of—”

“No!” Skeletor screeches, and it echoes through the massive chamber, booming all around them. Lower, he hisses, “I want him _alive_.”

Evil-Lyn frowns. But she nods, obedient to his whims, as much as he hopes He-Man will soon be. She backs away, and Skeletor returns to the window and his fantasies of the delicious near-future.


End file.
